Stazy didn’t at all like the calculating glint she could clearly see in her grandfather’s eyes. His first condition made a certain amount of sense—although there was no guarantee, of course. But at least Jaxon Wilder having access to her grandmother’s personal papers might mean there was a slight chance his screenplay would have some basis in truth. Not much, but some.

That only left her grandfather’s second condition …

‘Go ahead, Gramps,’ she invited softly.

‘Perhaps you should both sit down first …?’

Stazy tensed and at the same time sensed Jaxon’s own increased wariness as he stood across the room from her. ‘Do we need to sit down …?’

‘Oh I think it might be advisable,’ her grandfather confirmed dryly.

‘I’ll remain standing, if you don’t mind,’ Jaxon Wilder rasped gruffly.

‘Not at all,’ Geoffrey chuckled. ‘Stazy?’

‘The same,’ she murmured warily.

‘Very well.’ Her grandfather relaxed back in his chair as he looked up at the two of them. ‘I have found your conversation today highly … diverting, shall we say? And I assure you there is really very little that a man of my age finds in the least amusing!’ her grandfather added ruefully.

He was playing with them, Stazy recognised frustratedly. Amusing himself at their expense. ‘Will you just spit it out, Gramps!’

He smiled slightly as he rested his elbows on the arms of the chair before linking his fingers together in front of his chest. ‘Stazy, you obviously have reservations about the content of Jaxon’s film—’

‘With good reason!’

‘With no reason whatsoever,’ Jaxon corrected grimly. ‘I am not the one responsible for that dreadful biography—nor have I ever written or starred in a film that twists the truth in order to add sensationalism,’ he added hardly.

‘I doubt most Hollywood actors would recognise the truth if it jumped up and bit them on the nose!’ Those green eyes glittered with scorn.

Jaxon wasn’t sure which one of them had closed the distance between them—was only aware that they now stood so close that their noses were almost touching as she glared up at him and Jaxon scowled right back down at her.

He was suddenly aware of the soft insidiousness of Stazy’s perfume: a heady combination of cinnamon, lemon and—much more disturbing—hotly enraged woman …

Close to her like this, Jaxon could see that those amazing green eyes had a ring of black about the iris, giving them a strangely luminous quality that was almost mesmerising when fringed with the longest, darkest lashes he had ever seen. Her complexion was the pale ivory of fine bone china, with the same delicacy of appearance.

A delicacy that was completely at odds with the sensual fullness of her mouth.

Her lips were slightly parted now, to reveal small and perfectly straight white teeth. Small white teeth that Jaxon imagined could bite a man with passion as easily as—What the …?

Jaxon stepped back abruptly as he realised he had allowed his thoughts to wander way off the reservation, considering the antagonism the two of them clearly felt towards each other. Not only that, but Stazy Bromley was exactly like all the buttoned-down and career-orientated women he knew who had clawed themselves up the professional ladder so that they might inhabit the higher echelons of certain film studios. Hard, unfeminine women, whom Jaxon always avoided like the plague!

He eased the tension from his shoulders before turning back to face the obviously still amused Geoffrey Bromley. ‘I agree with Stazy—’

‘How refreshing!’ she cut in dryly.

‘You may as well just get this is over with,’ Jaxon finished ruefully.

‘Let’s hope the two of you are in as much agreement about my second condition.’ Sir Geoffrey nodded, no longer smiling or as relaxed as he had been a short time ago. ‘I’ve given the matter some thought, and in view of Stazy’s lack of enthusiasm for the making of your film, and your own obvious determination to prove her suspicions wrong, Jaxon, I feel it would be better for all concerned if Stazy were to assist you in collating and researching Anastasia’s personal papers.’

‘What …?’

Jaxon was completely in agreement with Stazy Bromley’s obvious horror at the mere suggestion of the two of them working that closely together even for one minute, let alone the days or weeks it might take him to go through Anastasia Bromley’s papers!

CHAPTER TWO

STAZY was the first to recover her powers of speech . ‘You can’t be serious, Gramps—’

‘I assure you I am perfectly serious.’ He nodded gravely.

She gave a disbelieving shake of her head. ‘I can’t just take time off from the university whenever I feel like it!’

‘I’m sure Jaxon won’t mind waiting a few weeks until you finish for the long summer break.’

‘But I’ve been invited to join a dig in Iraq this summer—’

‘And I sincerely doubt that any of those artifacts having already been there for hundreds if not thousands of years, are going to disappear overnight just because you arrive a week later than expected,’ her grandfather reasoned pleasantly.

Stazy stared down at him in complete frustration, knowing that she owed both him and her grandmother so much more than a week of her time. That if it wasn’t for the two of them completely turning their own lives upside down fifteen years ago she would never have coped with her parents deaths as well as she had. It had also been their encouragement and support that had helped her through an arduous university course and then achieving her doctorate.

Stazy’s thoughts came to an abrupt halt as she suddenly became aware of Jaxon Wilder’s unnatural silence.

Those silver-grey eyes were narrowed on her grandfather, hard cheekbones thrown into sharp prominence by the clenching of his jaw, and his mouth was a thin and uncompromising line. His hands too were clenched, into fists at his sides.

Obviously not a happy bunny, either, Stazy recognised ruefully.

Although any satisfaction she might have felt at that realisation was totally nullified by her own continued feelings of horror at her grandfather’s proposal. ‘I believe you will find Mr Wilder is just as averse to the idea as I am, Gramps,’ she drawled derisively.

He shrugged. ‘Then it would appear to be a case of film and be damned,’ he misquoted softly.

Stazy drew in a sharp breath as she remembered the furore that had followed the publication of the unauthorised biography six months ago. The press had hounded her grandfather for weeks afterwards—to the extent that he had arranged for round-the-clock guards to be placed at Bromley House and his house in London. And he had suffered a heart attack because of the emotional strain he had been put under.

Stazy had even had one inventive reporter sit in on one of her lectures without detection, only to corner her with a blast of personal questions at the end—much to her embarrassment and anger.

The thought of having to go through all that again was enough to send cold shivers of dread down Stazy’s spine. ‘Perhaps you might somehow persuade Mr Wilder into not making the film at all, Gramps?’ Although her own behaviour towards him this past hour or so certainly wasn’t conducive to Jaxon Wilder wanting to do her any favours!

Probably she should have thought of that earlier. Her grandmother had certainly believed in the old adage, ‘You’ll catch more with honey than with vinegar …’

The derision in Jaxon Wilder’s piercing grey eyes as he looked at her seemed to indicate he was perfectly aware of Stazy’s belated regrets! ‘What form of … persuasion did you have in mind, Dr Bromley?’ he drawled mockingly.

Stazy felt the colour warm her cheeks. ‘I believe I referred to my grandfather’s powers of persuasion rather than my own,’ she returned irritably.

‘Pity,’ he murmured softly, those grey eyes speculative as his gaze moved slowly over Stazy, from her two-inch-heeled shoes, her curvaceous figure in the black dress, to the top of her flame-coloured head, before settling on the pouting fullness of her mouth.

She frowned her irritation as she did her best to ignore that blatantly sexual gaze. ‘Surely you can appreciate how much the making of this film is going to upset my grandfather?’

‘On the contrary.’ Jaxon deeply resented Stazy Bromley’s tone. ‘I believe that a film showing the true events of seventy years ago can only be beneficial to your grandmother’s memory.’

‘Oh, please, Mr Wilder.’ Stazy Bromley eyed him pityingly. ‘We both know that your only interest in making this particular film is in going up on that stage in a couple of years’ time to collect yet another batch of awards!’

Jaxon drew in a sharp breath. ‘You—’

‘Enough!’ Sir Geoffrey firmly cut in on the conversation before Jaxon had chance to finish his blistering reply. Eyes of steely-blue raked over both of them as he stood up. ‘I believe that for the moment I have heard quite enough on this subject from both of you.’ He gave an impatient shake of his head. ‘You’ll be staying for dinner, I hope, Jaxon …?’ He raised steel-grey brows questioningly.

‘If you feel we can make any progress by my doing so—yes, of course I’ll stay to dinner,’ Jaxon bit out tensely.

Sir Geoffrey gave a derisive smile. ‘I believe it will be up to you and Stazy as to whether any progress will or can be made before you leave here later today,’ he said dryly. ‘And, with that in mind, I am going upstairs to take a short nap before dinner. Stazy, perhaps you would like to take Mr Wilder for a walk in the garden while I’m gone? My roses are particularly lovely this year, Jaxon, and their perfume is strongest in the late afternoon and early evening,’ he added lightly, succeeding in silencing his granddaughter as she drew in another deep breath with the obvious intention of arguing against his suggestion.

Jaxon was reminded that the older man had once been in a position of control over the whole of British Intelligence, let alone one stubbornly determined granddaughter! ‘A walk in the garden sounds … pleasant,’ Jaxon answered noncommittally, not completely sure that Stazy Bromley wouldn’t use the opportunity to try and stab him with a garden fork while they were outside, and so put an end to this particular problem.

‘That’s settled, then,’ Sir Geoffrey said heartily. ‘Do cheer up, darling.’ He bent to kiss his granddaughter on the forehead. ‘I very much doubt that Jaxon has any intention of attempting to steal the family silver before he leaves!’

The sentiment was so close to Jaxon’s own earlier thoughts in regard to Stazy’s obviously scathing opinion of him that he couldn’t help but chuckle wryly. ‘No, Sir Geoffrey, I believe you may rest assured that all your family jewels are perfectly safe where I’m concerned.’

The older man placed an affectionate arm about his granddaughter’s slender shoulders. ‘Stazy is the only family jewel I care anything about, Jaxon.’

‘In that case, they’re most definitely safe!’ Jaxon assured him with hard dismissal.

‘And on that note …’ Sir Geoffrey smiled slightly as his arm dropped back to his side. ‘I’ll see both of you in a couple of hours.’ He turned and left the room. Leaving a tense and awkward silence behind him.

Stazy was very aware of the barely leashed power of the man walking beside her across the manicured lawn in the warmth of the late-afternoon sunshine, and could almost feel the heated energy radiating off Jaxon Wilder. Or perhaps it was just repressed anger? The two of them had certainly got off to a bad start earlier—and it had only become worse during the course of the next hour!

Mainly because of her own less-than-pleasant attitude, Stazy accepted. But what else had this man expected? That she was just going to stand by and risk her grandfather becoming ill again?

She gave a weary sigh before breaking the silence between them. ‘Perhaps we should start again, Mr Wilder?’

He raised dark brows as he looked down at her. ‘Perhaps we should, Dr Bromley?’

‘Stazy,’ she invited abruptly.

‘Jaxon,’ he drawled in return.

He obviously wasn’t going to make this easy for her, Stazy acknowledged impatiently. ‘I’m sure you are aware of what happened five months ago, and why I now feel so protective towards my grandfather?’

‘Of course.’ Jaxon gave a rueful smile as he ducked beneath the trailing branches of a willow tree, only to discover there was a wooden swing chair beneath the vibrant green leaves. ‘Shall we …?’ he prompted lightly. ‘I resent the fact,’ he continued once they were both seated, ‘that you believe he might need any protection from me.’

That was fair enough, Stazy acknowledged grudgingly. Except she still believed this man was in a position to cause her grandfather unnecessary distress. ‘He and my grandmother were totally in love with each other until the very end …’

Jaxon heard clearly the pain of loss underlying her statement. ‘I’m not about to do anything to damage either Geoffrey’s or your own treasured memories of Anastasia,’ he assured her huskily.

‘No?’

‘No,’ Jaxon said evenly. ‘On the contrary—I’m hoping my film will help to set the record straight where your grandmother’s actions seventy years ago are concerned. I don’t believe in making money—or in acquiring awards—’ he gave her a pointed look ‘—by causing someone else unnecessary pain.’

Stazy felt her cheeks warm at the rebuke. ‘Perhaps we should just draw a veil over our previous conversation, Jaxon …?’

‘Perhaps we should.’ He chuckled wryly.

Stazy’s eyes widened as she saw that a cleft had appeared in Jaxon’s left cheek as he smiled, and those grey eyes were no longer cold but the warm colour of liquid mercury, his teeth very white and even against his lightly tanned skin.

Stazy had spent the past eleven years acquiring her degree, her doctorate, and lecturing—as well as attending as many archaeological digs around the world as she could during the holidays. Leaving very little time for such frivolities as attending the cinema. Even so, she had seen several of Jaxon Wilder’s films, and was able to appreciate that the man in the flesh was very much more … immediate than even his sexy screen image portrayed. Mesmerisingly so.

Just as she was aware of the heat of his body as he sat beside her on the swing seat—of the way his lightly spicy aftershave intermingled with the more potent and earthy smell of a virile male in his prime.

That was something of an admission from a woman who over the years had eschewed even the suggestion of a personal relationship in favour of concentrating on her career. And now certainly wasn’t the time for Stazy to belatedly develop a crush on a film star!

Even one as suavely handsome as Jaxon Wilder.

Especially one as suavely handsome as Jaxon Wilder! What could a London university lecturer in archaeology and an award-winning Hollywood actor/director possibly have in common? Nothing, came the clear answer!

Was she disappointed at that realisation? No, of course she wasn’t! Was she …?

Stazy got abruptly to her feet. ‘Shall we continue with our walk?’ She set out determinedly towards the fishpond, without so much as waiting to see if he followed her.

Jaxon slowly stood to stroll along behind Stazy, not quite sure what had happened to make her take off so abruptly, only knowing that something had. He also knew, after years of spending time with women who were totally fixated on both their career and their appearance—and not necessarily in that order!—that Stazy Bromley was so much more complex than that. An enigma. One that was starting to interest him in spite of himself, Jaxon acknowledged ruefully as he realised he was watching the way her perfectly rounded bottom moved sensuously beneath her black fitted dress as she walked.

Even Stazy’s defence of her grandparents, although an irritation to him, and casting aspersions upon his own character as it undoubtedly did, was still a trait to be admired. Most of the women Jaxon was acquainted with would sell their soul to the devil—let alone their grandparents’ reputations!—if it meant they could attract even a little publicity for themselves by doing so!

Stazy Bromley obviously did the opposite. Even that inaccurate biography had only fleetingly mentioned that Anastasia had had one child and one grandchild, and any attempt to talk to Stazy after the publication of that book had been met with the response that ‘Dr Stazy Bromley does not give personal interviews’.

‘So,’ Jaxon began as he joined her beside a pond full of large golden-coloured fish, ‘what do you think of your grandfather’s idea that the two of us meet here in the summer and research your grandmother’s personal papers together …?’

She gave a humourless smile as she continued to watch the fish lazing beneath the water in the warmth of the early-evening sunshine. ‘If I didn’t know better I would say it was the onset of senility!’

Jaxon chuckled appreciatively. ‘But as we both do know better …?’

She gave a shrug. ‘You really can’t be persuaded into dropping the film idea altogether?’

He drew in a sharp breath. ‘Stazy, even if I said yes I know for a fact that there are at least two other directors with an interest in making their own version of what happened.’

Stazy turned to look at him searchingly, knowing by the openness of his expression as he returned her gaze that he was telling her the truth. ‘Directors who may not have your integrity?’ she questioned flatly.

‘Probably not.’ He grimaced.

‘So, what you’re saying is it’s a question of going with the devil we know, or allowing some other film director to totally blacken my grandmother’s name and reputation?’ Stazy guessed heavily.

Jaxon nodded abruptly. ‘That about sums it up, yes.’

Damned if they did—double damned it they didn’t. ‘You do realise that if I agree to do this I would be doing so under protest?’

His mouth twisted derisively. ‘Oh, I believe you’ve made your feelings on that particular subject more than clear, Stazy,’ he assured her dryly.

She shot him an irritated glance before once again turning to walk away, this time in the direction of the horses grazing in a corner of the meadow that adjoined the garden. One of those horses, a beautiful chestnut stallion, ambled over to stretch its neck across the fence, so that Stazy could stroke absently down the long length of his nose as she continued to consider the options available to her.

There really weren’t any.

She either agreed to help Jaxon Wilder in his research or she refused, and then he’d go ahead and make the film without any input from her grandfather or Anastasia’s private papers.

Her uncharacteristic physical awareness of this man was not only unacceptable but also baffling to Stazy, and even now, standing just feet away from him as she continued to stroke Copper’s nose, she was totally aware of Jaxon’s disturbing presence. Too much for her not to know that spending a week in his company was simply asking for trouble.

It was all too easy for Jaxon to see the riot of emotions that flashed across Stazy Bromley’s expressive face as she considered what to do about this situation: impatience, frustration, anger, dismay—

Dismay …?

Jaxon raised dark brows as he wondered what that was all about. Obviously Stazy would rather this situation didn’t exist at all, but she didn’t appear to be the type of woman who would allow anything to get the better of her. And exactly why was he even bothering to wonder what type of woman Stazy Bromley was? Jaxon questioned self-derisively.

Her physical resemblance to her grandmother had aroused his interest initially, but this last hour or so of being insulted by her—both for who and what he was—had surely nullified that initial spark of appreciation?

Jaxon studied Stazy from beneath lowered lids. That wonderful hair gleamed fiery-gold in the sunlight, her eyes were a sultry and luminescent green, and there was a slight flush to her cheeks from walking in the sunshine. Her full and sensuous lips curved into an affectionate smile as the stallion nudged against her shoulder for attention.

He drew in a deep breath. ‘It must have been a difficult time for you after your parents died—’

‘I would rather not discuss my own private life with you, if you don’t mind,’ she said stiffly.

‘I was only going to say that this must have been a wonderful place to spend your teenage years,’ Jaxon murmured as he turned to lean his elbows on the fence and look across at the mellow-stoned house.

‘It was—yes,’ Stazy confirmed huskily. She looked up at him curiously. ‘Whereabouts in England are you from?’

‘Cambridgeshire.’

‘And do you still go home?’ she prompted curiously.

‘Whenever I can.’ Jaxon nodded. ‘Which probably isn’t as often as my family would like. My parents and younger brother still live in the small village where I grew up. But it’s nowhere near as nice as this.’

It really was idyllic here, Jaxon appreciated, with horses gently grazing behind them, birds singing in the trees in the beautiful wooded area surrounding Bromley House and the coastline edging onto the grounds. The slightly salty smell of the sea was just discernible as waves gently rose and fell on the distant sand.

‘I had forgotten that places like this existed,’ he added almost wistfully.

‘Nothing like it in LA, hmm?’ Stazy mocked as she turned to look at him.

He shot her a rueful smile. ‘Not exactly, no.’ The place he had bought on the coast in Malibu several years ago was too huge and modern to feel in the least homely. ‘Although I do own a place in New England—very rustic and in the woods—where I go whenever I get the chance.’ Which, he realised, hadn’t been all that often during recent years.

He had been busy filming and then editing his last film most of the previous year, then caught up in attending the premieres and numerous awards ceremonies since—including those that Stazy had mocked earlier! All of that had left him little time in which to sit back and smell the roses. Here at Bromley House it was possible to do that. Literally.

But the serpent in this particular Eden appeared to be the tangible antagonism of the beautiful and strangely alluring woman standing beside him.

Jaxon breathed deeply. ‘For your grandfather’s sake, couldn’t we at least try to—?’ He broke off as Stazy gave a derisive laugh. ‘What?’ he prompted irritably.

‘My grandfather has taught me never to trust any statement that begins with “for whoever or whatever’s sake”!’ she revealed. ‘He assures me it’s usually a prefix to someone imposing their will by the use of emotional blackmail!’

Jaxon gave a rueful shake of his head. ‘I would have thought you were old enough to make up your own mind about another person’s intentions!’

Stazy felt the sting of colour in her cheeks at this obvious challenge. ‘Oh, I am, Jaxon,’ she assured him derisively.

He arched dark brows. ‘And you decided I was going to be trouble before you even met me?’ he guessed easily.

‘Yes.’ A belief that had been more than borne out these past few minutes as Stazy had become more physically aware of this magnetically handsome man in a way she wasn’t in the least comfortable with! ‘Shall we go back to the house?’ It was a rhetorical and terse suggestion on Stazy’s part, and she gave Copper one last affectionate stroke on his velvet-soft nose before walking away.

Jaxon fell into step beside her seconds later. ‘And is that your final word on the subject?’

Stazy eyed him derisively. ‘Don’t be misled by my grandfather’s social graciousness or his age, Jaxon. If you do come here to stay for a week to do your research then I believe you will very quickly learn that he always has the last word on any subject!’

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